


What Happens in Madrid...

by severalkittens



Series: Is this temporary love? [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, There's no plot, like seriously this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 20:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19837972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severalkittens/pseuds/severalkittens
Summary: ... stays in Madrid. Including the result of That Game.





	What Happens in Madrid...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dierdele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dierdele/gifts).



> I've been going through my drafts finishing and posting everything I wrote this season. I wrote most of this one right before the CL final, based on a prompt from @dierdele that I may or may not have misread:
> 
> "Jan and Paulo are sharing a room in Madrid tonight, right? And it's hot, right? So they should probably sleep with very little clothing on..."
> 
> It takes place in a totally different universe than my other Jazzaniga fics.

Madrid is hotter than London. During training, Jan can feel the warmer air scorching his lungs, sun coloring his cheeks, sweat curling down his back and into his waistband. It’s even hot now, at night, even though he’s got the window all the way open. The curtains hang limp and undisturbed, saturated with humidity. Maybe it’s got something to do with the moonlight streaming in through his open window, or that extra lingering burn in his muscles, but the air feels electric. Like he might be on the edge of something spectacular. 

Jan turns the page of his book. He’s not really reading it, he just likes the texture of paper between his fingers. It’s somehow calming, regular, grounding. Especially when he has every reason to be keyed up. Tottenham are on the verge of the biggest game in their history. The whole world is watching them. He might never get this chance again. 

Eventually, he manages to lull himself into a mostly calm state. He marks his book and sets about getting ready for bed. He’ll just have a quick shower, maybe rub one out to relieve a bit of the tension. He’s standing in front of his mirror wondering whether he needs to put anything on his sun-torched skin when he hears a tiny knock on his door.

_Weird,_ he thinks. It’s late, and his teammates are probably all either sleeping or on their way. He absently wonders whether whoever has just knocked on his door will mind that he’s shirtless. Probably not. He glances curiously out the peephole and does a little double take.

_Paulo Gazzaniga?_

It's weird. He and Paulo are friendly, of course, but Paulo doesn’t come to his room at 10:45 pm on a work night. 

“Paulo,” he greets. Paulo nods at him awkwardly, and Jan wonders why his palms suddenly feel so hot. 

“Hey man, my shower’s not working and I need to get to bed. Can I use yours?” 

“Sure,” says Jan, even though he was totally just about to get into the shower.

“Thanks,” says Paulo. His eyes are warm with gratitude and Jan feels a little shaky in the knee when he steps aside to let Paulo pass.

Paulo disappears into Jan’s bathroom leaving Jan to wonder why his body is betraying him like this. _It’s because I’m about to play in a Champions League final,_ he tells himself. There’s a bit of magic hanging about, the air feels like bathwater, and the moonlight just looks extra special when it’s reflecting in Paulo’s blue eyes. 

He sits down on his bed, on top of the covers. He doesn’t know what else to do but listen to the water running in the bathroom, try not to think about how it’s running over Paulo’s skin,and continue pretending to read his book. 

_You were going to jerk off,_ says a little voice in the back of his mind. He instantly tries to push that thought far, far away, somewhere it won’t bother him until after Paulo is out of his shower, out of his room. But he can hear water splashing like Paulo’s rinsing soap from his body. Unbidden, an image flashes through his mind, soapy bubbles sliding down Paulo's hip, and now he’s half hard.

He reaches down and adjusts the front of his joggers, willing whatever’s going on down there to stop. _Please._ Feeling rather clever, he turns on the television to distract himself. He scrolls through Netflix quickly before flicking to the news channel, staring at the calming face of the anchor and the comforting, low drone of his voice reading the evening news.

Jan’s so distracted it’s a minute before he realizes he’s watching the news in Spanish. He barely speaks Spanish, and only understands as much as his French allows him. He’s certainly never watched Spanish television before, and he’s only getting about seventy percent of it. But focusing on the easy, melodic speech is making it easier to pretend he’s not turned on by the hottest guy on the team feet away from him in his shower.

Jan’s so focused on trying to be distracted, he doesn’t actually notice when the water stops running, or when Paulo opens the door. But suddenly he’s grinning, leaning back against the frame in nothing but a towel, saying, “Ah, hablas Español?”

_How do I say ‘yes, of course,’_ thinks Jan. He panics, his brain a jumbled mess of every language he’s ever learned, so what he actually says is, “Oui, bien sûr!” 

He already knows what’s happening before it’s half way out of his mouth, so his voice cracks awkwardly, and his face is beet red by the time he shuts his mouth. Paulo’s laughing at him, and he wants to hide his face in his hands.

“I mean, I-“ 

“You need a translator?” says Paulo, grinning widely. Jan _doesn’t_ need a translator, what he needs is to turn off the news, deal with his semi, and go to bed without embarrassing himself in front of Paulo, of all people. 

But Paulo’s grinning at him and his eyes are all crinkly, so instead he shrugs, pats the pillow next to him, and scooches over.

He doesn’t think Paulo’s actually going to sit, but suddenly the big keeper is stretching his tan limbs out next to Jan with nothing but an easy smile and the tiny towel he has wrapped around his waist. Jan goes red all the way down to his chest, and props a knee up so Paulo can’t see the tent in the loose material of his joggers.

They watch in silence for a minute. 

“Fuck, it’s hot here,” groans Paulo, pulling the towel a little lower on his hips. It drives Jan straight up the wall.

Jan hums non-committally, not trusting himself to speak. He makes the mistake of glancing over at Paulo- long legs, thick thighs, the sprinkle of dark hair on his chest. _His cut lines._ Jan swallows. His swimming pool eyes are laughing at Jan from underneath heavy lids, and his lips pull back in a wide grin. Jan feels a prickle of sweat on his brow. He finally looks away, with difficulty. He had been having such a relaxed night, how did he get into this situation?

“Are you hot, Jan?” says Paulo, eyes flicking down to his flushed chest. Yes, he is, very. But it has nothing to do with the Madrid weather and everything to do with Paulo’s dark hair, chiseled abs, and hooded eyes. 

“Yeah,” says Jan. It’s only one syllable but he can’t keep his voice from breaking again. He’s probably flushed all the way down to his hipbones now. Paulo can probably see everything. Probably knows exactly what effect he’s having on Jan.

“You could take off the joggers, no?” says Paulo. He’s not going to take his joggers off. Underneath he’s only got a thin pair of white cotton briefs. Jan turns and stares at Paulo with wide eyes.It’s a mistake. Of course he’s going to do whatever Paulo says when he’s looking at Jan like _that._

Jan stands up and scrambles out of his joggers. His toe catches the waistband and he stumbles slightly into the side of the bed.

“Ow,” Jan murmers. Paulo laughs softly.

Jan fumbles trying to fold up his joggers and place them in his suitcase, and bangs his elbow on the night stand. He can hear Paulo cracking up behind him, and he huffs in frustration.

Why is he so flustered anyway? Paulo may be beautiful, but Jan’s no spring chicken, and he's always prided himself on his composure. He turns away, praying Paulo at least hasn't seen the obvious bulge in his briefs.

When he turns back to the bed, Paulo’s got his legs splayed out wide on the bed, and mirth dancing across his features. He pats his thigh and Jan swallows as he watches Paulo’s quad jiggle.

“Come sit. You can’t injure yourself again before the final,” he says. Jan makes some noise between a whimper and a splutter. Surely, _surely_ Paulo can’t mean that. He stands frozen, mouth gaping, until Paulo pats his leg again and raises his eyebrows encouragingly. Jan realizes Paulo definitely _did_ mean that, and pinches himself to see whether he’s dreaming. 

The pinch raises a red welt on his arm, so Jan takes tentative steps around the bed, looking to Paulo for reassurance each step of the way. His wide grin never falters, and suddenly his hands are on Jan’s hips helping him slide into Paulo’s lap. Jan feels like he’s on fire wherever his skin is touching Paulo’s- his chest on Jan’s back, soft inner thighs pressed into Jan’s hips, arms wrapping around Jan’s torso and drawing him close, lips on Jan’s neck.

He’s still tense, still feels like he should say something. Anything. Like _what the hell is happening?_ Jan opens his mouth to speak just as Paulo trails a knuckle across his hip bone, and all coherent thought escapes him.

“Is your shower really broken?” is all he gets out, fighting to get his breath back.

Paulo doesn’t answer, just slides his thumbs into the waistband of Jan’s cotton briefs. He tugs gently, and Jan’s cock rubs between his stomach and the fabric. Jan gasps, not certain if it’s the surprise or the pleasure.

“No,” says Paulo. And then he sinks his teeth right into the soft slope where Jan’s neck meets his shoulder.

Jan closes his eyes and tips his head back. The news reel runs forgotten in front of them. His heart beating fast and breath erratic as Paulo sucks marks into his skin. Paulo’s still tugging at his briefs, and Jan’s aching for Paulo’s fingers to climb those last few inches and give him what he really wants. 

“Come on,” he sighs, and grabs Paulo’s towel with both his hands, pulling it free and pressing back into Paulo’s bare skin.

“Patience, Jan,” Paulo says, voice deep, warm, and full of laughter. He noses at Jan’s cheek, and Jan turns his head to face him. 

Paulo kisses Jan firmly, lips sweet and slow in a way that turns Jan’s legs to jelly. And when Paulo tugs on Jan’s hips, urging him to turn over, he can only comply. Paulo slides his hands carefully up Jan’s waist, sending a shiver down his spine. He brushes Jan’s sweaty hair back from his forehead tenderly, and slides down, pulling Jan with him. 

He’s cuddled into Paulo’s chest, kissing him like he hasn’t kissed anyone since he was a teen. Paulo’s massive thigh is pressed up between his legs, each nudge blissful on Jan’s erection. He’d be embarrassed about how hard he is if he couldn’t feel the evidence of Paulo’s arousal pressed against his stomach, leaking a little onto Jan’s bare skin. 

It feels absolutely massive, and he reaches his hand down and gets a fist aound it, just to check. It is, big enough it fills Jan’s entire palm, and he can feel thick veins under his fingertips. He has no real leverage to move his hand, but the roll of Paulo’s hips shoves it into Jan’s fist.Paulo groans when Jan swipes his thumb through the precome gathering at the tip. He keeps circling his thumb, mouthing at his neck, anything to make Paulo fall apart. 

“Ah, ok Jan,” Paulo gasps, fingers suddenly tight on Jan’s wrist. “You need to stop or else I’ll come.”

Jan’s so worked up he can only whimper. Paulo exhales, closing his eyes, and slides a hand into Jan’s waistband to palm at his ass.

“You’ve done this before?” Paulo asks, dipping a finger in between Jan’s cheeks. He nods his head yes, sighing at the way Paulo’s thick finger feels pressed against his opening.

“You want it?”

“Yeah,” Jan whispers. He reaches over and fumbles at the drawer, eventually pulling out his tiny bottle of lube and a condom. He hadn’t thought he’d need it in Madrid, but suddenly that decision seems much less silly. 

“Here,” he says. Paulo takes the lube from him and coats his fingers. 

Paulo prepares him carefully, first rubbing lube all over him and then dipping inside. His fingers are long, and he squirms into Paulo’s hand as Paulo fucks them in and out.

Finally, finally Paulo withdraws his hand. He grabs the condom Jan pulled out before, tears it open, and grimaces as he rolls it down carefully over his massive length.

“Hands and knees, Jan,” Paulo whispers, cupping Jan’s cheek. Jan turns around quickly and obediently, rests his forearms on the bed, waiting for Paulo. He relaxes into Paulo’s big arm around his torso, and leans into the weight of his chest pressed up against Jan’s back.

Paulo pulls his underwear to the side and pushes into him slowly. He’s pretty sure he moans embarrassingly, but Paulo feels so good inside him he doesn’t even really care. 

Paulo holds him tight around the middle, breathing heavily into Jan’s ear. “Okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” says Jan. 

Paulo starts to thrust into Jan in tiny little movements. It’s a tight fit with Jan still in his briefs,and Paulo’s so big it’s all he can manage. He rocks into him, stroking over his prostate again and again until Jan’s cock is leaking and straining against the white cloth.

“I need- fuck, touch me, Paulo,” Jan moans, grinding his hips down and working himself further onto Paulo’s dick.

Paulo murmurs soft Spanish in his ear, and slides his hand down Jan's stomach to grasp his erection over his briefs. Jan doesn’t need a translator to know what Paulo means. He lets go, relaxing into the quick, tight, friction Paulo’s providing him.

“Fuck, Paulo, that’s-” Jan descends into incoherent gibberish. Paulo’s rubbing him up and down, and he can feel himself throbbing, he can feel the orgasm building in his stomach, impossibly tight, and it’s coming, he can’t stop it, he-

“Oh my god, you’re going to make me come, I’m going to-“

Paulo nudges his prostate a few more times and then Jan’s spiraling over the edge, crying outand spilling into his underwear and across Paulo’s hand.

“ _Oh_ , Jan,” Paulo says, breathily. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He’s still moving inside Jan just barely, and Jan’s so sensitive it feels like he might be dying.

Paulo brings his hand to Jan’s stomach, spreading his come over the ridges and valleys of his abs. Luckily he snakes his other hand around Jan’s chest, because Jan’s gone so boneless he’s on the verge of collapsing to the bed. 

He feels Paulo thrust into him jerkily a couple more times, and then he stills and comes with his lips pressed to Jan’s spine.

Paulo slips out of him with a groan, and lowers Jan back onto the sheets. The Spanish news is still going, and Paulo finally reaches for the clicker and turns it off. They lie there for a minute, breathing heavily.

“I was about to jerk off when you came in,” Jan mumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Fuck,” Paulo sputters out a laugh, shaking the whole bed. “I guess you needed that too, huh?”

“It’s tense,” Jan sighs. “One of the biggest games of my career, and I-“ he tuts his lips and trails off. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” says Paulo. 

Jan opens his eyes, and turns to look at Paulo.

“Why did you come to me?” he says.

“You’re hot,” Paulo says, raising his eyebrows. Jan hums thoughtfully. Yeah, he knows. Still, he never would have had the confidence to knock on someone’s door and ask them to sit on his lap.

“You’re ridiculous.” Jan makes to punch Paulo in the arm, but his fist falls short and he lets it drop back to the sheets.

Jan eventually drags himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom to clean himself up. He’s standing in the bathroom mirror, fingers pressed to one of the bruises Paulo bit into his shoulder, when Paulo comes up behind him.

“You ok?” he says, voice soft and full of concern. He wraps one of his huge hands around Jan’s bicep in a way that somehow makes Jan feel small and vulnerable.

“Well, I don’t think you added to my list of knocks,” Jan says, leaning over the counter to grab a washcloth.

“Here, let me,” Paulo says, taking the washcloth from Jan. The backs of his thighs bump against Jan when he leans over and wets the washcloth. He lets Paulo wipe him down, stroke the hair back from his forehead, pour him a glass of water. He drinks it, one arm loosely wrapped around Paulo’s waist. When he sets it back down on the counter, Paulo wraps him up in a hug. It’s a bit too warm for a hug like this, but Jan doesn’t really mind.

“I’d ask you to stay, but we probably shouldn’t,” Jan whispers, lips brushing Paulo’s tan shoulder.

“It’s ok, Jan, I know.” Paulo strokes the back of Jan’s neck. 

“And uh, it’s probably best if we don’t, _you know_ , again. Before the final,” he continues. God, he’s exhausted. He barely stifles a yawn.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Paulo says. He kisses him once, right on the lips. It’s definitely a goodbye kiss, and Jan knows it. Paulo pulls his clothes back on from the floor, and takes one final drink of water from Jan’s sink. Jan follows him back out into the room.

“And Jan,” Paulo says, right before he opens the door to leave. “Next time?”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll be champions of Europe.” 

**Author's Note:**

> And in case you were wondering, I didn't write the ending before the game. I would never tempt fate like that.


End file.
